Riding Lessons
by caffeinatedmusing
Summary: They started on such a serious misunderstanding. Before Cassandra and Oberon were lovers, they were just trying to figure each other out. (Cassandra/MTrevelyan, very minor reference to Dawn of the Seeker, maybe spoiler-y if you're strict about that sort of thing and haven't seen it or finished Cassandra's romance.)


Riding Lessons.

Watching Oberon 'make introductions' to the large bay gelding that Master Dennet had offered him, Cassandra smiled. The horse was massive, and how had Seanna had put it? _Spirited_? Cassandra had never heard a more polite phrasing of _willful obstinance_ before in her life. She would have to remember it. For his part, Oberon wanted the horse to trust him. It wasn't going well. They suited each other, she thought.

Restless, the gelding trotted around the stable yard, tossed its head, and reared when anyone got too close.

"I hope those new duds you've got on look good covered in mud." Iron Bull taunted, chewing on a stalk of grass as he leaned back against the barn.

She had overheard the large Qunari and Varric making bets on how long it would take for Oberon to be tossed on his ass.

Cassandra chewed her lip and withheld her judgement. After all, he claimed to be an experienced rider.

And, he had surprised her before now.

Oberon had told her he'd grown up around horses in Ostwick. As a child, he had mucked out the stables, curried and fed them, and performed many of the duties of a squire, long before he'd been allowed to ride. He must know what he was doing. He must have a plan. Leaning on the split rail fence, one slim brown hand shading her eyes, Cassandra waited to see it unfold. She watched his strong, broad hands as he made soothing gestures and reached out to pet the animal whenever it passed close by.

The horse danced sideways, eyeing him. He held out a hand, palm flat, placing a single sugar cube there, then waited.

 _He would let the creature come to him. Interesting tactic._ He had flirted like that, too, she realized. Making the quiet offer, letting her be the one to decide. _She imagined his hands stroking down over her shoulders, down her back to…_

Her nostrils flared, snorting and shaking herself out of it. This was neither the time nor the place for such thoughts! This was a diplomatic endeavor. The Inquisition needed horses and Dennet's herds were the best. They were here to convince one of their first allies. That was all there was to it.

 _What was wrong with her, daydreaming like that? And about a man half her age..._ She ground her teeth until her jaw ached, mortified. _Galyan hadn't even been dead for six months…_

She needed to stay focused.

Seanna returned then to announce that the course was set up and he could go whenever he was ready. Oberon nodded, but did not move otherwise.

The horse's nostrils flared. Cautious, it approached. Sniffling, and then nuzzling into his palm, it ate the sweet treat. Distracted, the gelding didn't see Oberon's other hand sneak up to the reins.

It reared, whickering in alarm when it felt the hand grip and take control.

"Will you please hold still?" Oberon begged, as the horse pulled away.

Refusing , it pranced and sidled about as Oberon took hold of the saddle and managed to get a foot up into the stirrup. At which point the horse took off, dragging the human clinging to its side along with it.

"Whoa! Shit!"

"Inquisitor!" Cassandra started forward, then stopped herself. She could _not_ run to his rescue. He was a grown man and they were here to make an impression. How could Dennet have faith in their Inquisitor when his own people did not? Heart pounding in her throat, she prayed he would not be hurt. Clenching her fists, she shut out Bull and Varric jeering from the sidelines and waited for disaster.

"Left! It's to your left!" She yelled, trying to give him what direction she could as the jumble of horse and rider approached the first set of posts.

Somehow, Oberon got into the saddle and proceeded to guide the horse to the left. It responded by fighting for control of the reins again and veering right, missing the posts entirely.

"No! Bad horse! Go that way." he shouted, trying to get turned back around in the correct direction.

He managed to get the gelding to circle back and went through the markers from the wrong direction before turning all the way about again…

And then they were off!

The horse galloped smoothly, leaping a low stone wall, and clearing several stacks of hay as it cut across country from the first set of posts to what must be the fourth or fifth in the course.

On the way, they splashed through the shallow stream and vaulted a picnic table as Inquisition soldiers scattered out of their way.

Oberon kept his seat, his form excellent, using his knees to guide and keeping a tight hand on the reins. They managed the next two markers in order, although the horse seemed to delight in trying to scrape it's rider off on the posts. Seanna was shouting and waving, offering advice and calling the horse back in. Several of the farm hands had stopped their work to watch the spectacle go past. They yelled, insults or encouragement, Cassandra couldn't tell over the fields.

She chewed the inside of her lip and worried. She devised a mental list of healers in the Inquisition who knew how to mend broken bones. She planned how she would write out the explanation to Commander Cullen as to why his troops would have to remain on foot for the duration of the war.

Next to her, Varric whooped and threw his head back, laughing, as the horse put on even more speed and took a hairpin turn that should have thrown Oberon, but didn't. Bull cheered and clapped. Clods of dirt sprayed out behind the hooves as the creature put its head down and _ran_ with Oberon bent low over its shoulders.

They made the last marker, and turned to head in, the horse showing no sign of slowing.

Oberon pulled up the reins, and _finally_ the horse obeyed, trotting back into the stable yard, snorting, sides heaving. If Cassandra didn't know better, she could have sworn the animal was proud of itself.

Oberon slid down from the saddle, splattered in mud, windblown, and a bit boneless. One of his pant legs was torn, the knee badly scraped and oozing blood. He laughed and shook his head as Seanna rushed forward in alarm.

"He's not usually like that, my lord, I swear."

"It's alright, Seanna. This horse has a lot of personality. And he loves to run!" Oberon reached up to pat the muscled shoulder, grinning. The horse stomped and then headed over to get a drink of water. Some sort of agreement seemed to have been reached between them.

Cassandra took a breath and, making sure her professional façade was in place, strode over to inquire as to whether or not the horse was to his liking and would they be taking the beast back to Skyhold with them? _Is the agreement with Dennet official?_ They were, and it was. She allowed herself a sigh of relief. As untried a negotiator as Oberon was, she had kept her concerns to herself so as not to undermine him. They could not appear to be divided even over the slightest detail.

Looking up at him now, tousled and grinning from the exhilarating ride, she felt a renewed rush of heat slide up from her belly. It left her flustered and tongue tied. Her heart beat faster. She stared at his mouth, watched his lips move, unable to think of what to say, and not fully understanding what he had said.

"Do you want a ride?" He asked again.

Cassandra snapped back to herself, disgusted at her lapse of attention.

" _What?!_ "

"…Do you want to try the course?" He asked, expression confused. He was offering her the reins.

"Don't be ridiculous!" she scoffed, her face hot, before she turned on her heel and marched off in the direction of the farmstead. Master Dennet. She needed to find the Horsemaster so he could sign the final agreement. So they could be on their way.

"Varric, remind me?" Oberon spotted the dwarf as he headed over to congratulate him on not dying.

"They do have horses in Nevarra, don't they?" He had the impression he'd said something to offend the Lady Pentaghast.

Varric, having overheard, smirked and raised an eyebrow at him but said nothing.

"Yes, they do." Iron Bull answered as he joined them, not having overheard. "Fine racers, too. Orlesian nobles buy them sometimes. I could never ride one, though. Legs are too skinny."

"The nobles or the horses?" Varric teased, ever incorrigible, which led to more laughter.

"Hmm." Oberon nodded but he wasn't listening. He watched the former Seeker go, his expression thoughtful.


End file.
